Where the Heart Is
by nuttycookie
Summary: First one-shot after an EXTREMELY long hiatus from FanFiction... "This really is the end for us this time, isn't it, Ichigo?" "We are nakama, Rukia! Death is not the end for us, you know that." Warnings for character death, and spoilers beyond the Hueco Mundo arc, referencing the Winter War.
1. Where the Heart Is

A/N: One-shot—continued on my own, but I chose to end it here while editing. The following chapters would be simply too humor-oriented to match well with the serious and emotive ending you'll find.

Inspired by discovering shoujo, too much InuYasha TFA, rediscovering Fade to Black and the manga…and Phil Collins' _You'll Be in My Heart_. (Speaking of which, listen to that whilst reading this…I recommend the combination for full heartstring-pulling effect…!) Hopefully the amalgamation of the above didn't result in too much sap or OOC-ness…at least I tried, for a change!

For followers: Yes, it has been I-don't-know-how-many-years since I've been on here, let alone publishing anything…I may continue The In-Law From Hell…someday, when college and life allots me more time for writing non-scholastically.

Disclaimer: BLEACH is the property of Kubo Tite. Not me. Otherwise, I wouldn't be a college student right now, would I?

Love and peace, and IchiRuki all the way! Thanks for your patience, enjoy!

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It started with one blow. Then two. Ten. Now, twenty-something hours later of fighting, neither could count their wounds anymore.

When, fifteen or so hours ago, at dusk, they pulled their tired limbs into action against the last hollow in the area, they were as smooth and coordinated as ever—like a well oiled machine as they slew their innumerable opponents. They moved together like partners in a dance practiced a thousand times over. But then, in a moment of self-assured confidence, they took off on their own toward where they had heard the battle was at its most dire. Ishida and Renji called after them, but Rukia's reassuring voice chimed back with a chuckle, while Ichigo had a cocky smirk plastered on his face and bright, hungry gleam in his amber eyes.

"Don't worry you two, we can handle this blindfolded!" The rag-tag, mixed-race group couldn't help but allow the pair to part ways with them with a collective sigh. Staying behind was the last thing they wanted, but they had to trust that the substitute and his partner knew what they were doing, somehow.

When they had arrived in the bowl-shaped canyon, the still bodies of slain and injured shinigami were strewn about, while the remnants of the squad held their ground stubbornly. An elite grouping of four high-level Quincies had wreaked such havoc in so little time, it made Ichigo's blood boil afresh within him. He let loose a feral battle cry, Rukia covering his back as they leapt into the fray.

Now hours later, three of the four Quincies were no more, with the fourth now withdrawing from the battleground, thoroughly bloodied and spewing curses into the air. The few shinigami that had fought earlier had either fallen or fled a long time ago, and so this last Quincy saw no reason to stay when there was nary a sign of life anywhere in the canyon, which had long since been plunged into the black of night. The setting was deathly still and frigidly cold, the only perceptible sound being the rustle of a chilled breeze occasionally sweeping across smooth rock and still bodies.

Ichigo dragged himself back into consciousness, lazily blinking his eyes open and promptly snapping them shut again as the sting of blood and sweat in them reminded him of his condition. He tried to catalogue his injuries, but much of his body felt oddly numb, his head swimming dizzily from blood loss. He coughed weakly as a name rang through his fuzzy mind, calling him to attention with a start.

_Rukia! _Where was she? Had she gone after the Quincy? He reached out with what negligible reiatsu he had left, panic gripping his chest and clenching his sore, tired heart with uncertainty. _I can't feel her anywhere! Did she leave the area? Or is she…?_

He shook his head stubbornly. "Rukia?" he called out, his voice scratchy and his lips parched. He strained his neck upwards when he heard something sputter in the dark, like the coughing up of blood. "Rukia?" he prompted again, more loudly, desperation ringing in his tone.

"Ichigo, is that you?" The response was music to the substitute's ears, albeit slurred and filled with panic. "I couldn't sense your reiatsu…I thought…"

"It's okay," he interrupted, "I can't feel yours either." _I hate that,_ he thought with a flicker of frustration, _it's like I'm blind…again. _He heard her scuffle and moan, cursing under her breath. "Rukia? Are you o—"

"Of course not, _bakamono_!" The petite shinigami's retort was followed promptly by a series of rasps, hacking much like Ukitake-taicho. She grumbled, her tone more subdued this time. "I can't move. Dammit."

He heard her gasping, the sound pained and wet. He was so tired himself, it was difficult to hang on to his consciousness; it took every ounce of willpower he had left. He lay on his shredded stomach, straining to hear her ragged breathing from afar and trying to gain some sort of comfort from the horrid sound. At least she was still here…

"Ichigo…" she trailed off, her tone uncertain and questioning, barely audible.

"_Nani, _Rukia?" The lieutenant's voice had grasped his attention once again. He had nearly let his mind slip into oblivion in the stifling quiet.

"Would you do…something for me?" She had to pause often to gasp for air as she spoke. "One last favor?"

"Anything," he breathed, turning his head toward her. _Or at least, I'll try,_ he amended silently,_ I'm not exactly capable of much at this point…why couldn't I just be—!_

Her soft voice called him out from his reverie. "Could you…come here…please? I can't feel you from so far away; it's…so awkward." She stopped again, wheezing and audibly clenching in pain. "I…don't want to die alone—"

"Of course, midget," Ichigo interrupted, putting as much playfulness he could muster into the insult. "I'll come." _She said…'please'…Kami, why couldn't I save her from…this…? _He growled at his thoughts and attempted to heave himself up to his knees, but failed, slipping as his limbs gave way. He found his left leg was completely unresponsive; perhaps it had simply been cut too thoroughly this time. He didn't want to consider that the cause might be a simple lack of strength.

"Ichigo!" she called out anxiously, having heard his struggle. He had heard that cry too many times in his life, and it grasped some deep part of him painfully every time.

"It's okay, I'm fine." Now it was his turn to cough up blood. He managed a slow, uneasy crawl across the rough ground to where he had heard his partner's voice; this was his nakama, after all. She had given so much for him, how could he not muster enough willpower to grant what was surely her dying wish? As he stumbled forward, his thoughts wandering again, he realized this was what he wanted as well. Lying alone in the cold, silent blackness, smothered by his own accusatory thoughts, without the reassurance of her companionship beside him, was absolutely miserable—he had endured that torture once already, for seventeen slow months. He wasn't about to go through that again.

"Rukia, is that you?" He had bumped into her hip and heard her wince, hissing from behind gritted teeth. His eyes attempted to focus in the inky darkness; he could only see that she was laying on her back, in a dark scarlet pool, with much of her shinigami robes raggedly torn apart. He could barely make out a portion of the many wounds across her tiny body, standing out starkly against her ivory skin in long gashes and mottled bruises. She stirred, her chest shuddering as she fought back another coughing fit. With all his might, Ichigo managed to sit up slightly, noting how his shredded robes were in no better shape than hers; with a clang, he dropped Zangetsu, which he had been clinging on to for dear life till now without even realizing it. It was no longer in bankai form, instead having taken the appearance of an ordinary, small katana for the first time; it now laid beside the shattered remains of Sode no Shirayuki, which still gleamed faintly in the darkness.

"Oh Rukia," he whispered, pained at the sight, taking a hand to cup her cool, damp cheek as tenderly as he could. Tears stained her face and were now falling freely down his own as well. She whimpered, a sound he had never heard escape from her in all the years of their friendship. It was something that he had never _wanted _to hear, and it tore at his gut with anguish like nothing he had felt before.

She opened her eyes, which shifted from a muddied navy blue into a bright glimmering indigo as they focused on his face. "This really is the end for us this time, isn't it, Ichigo?" She tried to smirk, but the light in her gaze faltered, and he caught the true emotions she was struggling to hide, as he always did.

"No!" His stubborn near-shout caught the young woman off guard, her eyes widening fractionally. He coughed violently, and his partner tried to reach up touch his shoulder in comfort, but he stiffened in protest. "We are _nakama_, Rukia! Death is not the end for us, you know that. Don't you dare give up your hope in us, you of all people!" His voice shifted to a more gentle tone as his shoulders slumped again. "We're too connected to not make it out of this together. We always have. We'll always find each other no matter what. I promise." He poured all his being into those words, willing himself to give back to her the confidence and hope she had always given him in his moments of depression. "After all, despair doesn't faze us anymore, does it? You said so yourself," he added quietly, now gasping for breath after the passionate monologue.

Rukia closed her eyes, and a faint but genuine smile finally crossed her features. "Ah." She reached for his hand with her small one, frailly trying to grasp it as if it were her last tether to existence. "I suppose so. We have no reason to fear death then, do we?"

The carrot-top mirrored her tired smile. "Rukia," he whispered with a painful wheeze, feeling more of what little life he held ebb away into the dark, "I remember what you told me, about when Shiba Kaien died…what he said about where the heart really is?" He prompted her gently, tucking a strand of her ebony hair back from her face, pleading for her to stay with him a little while longer.

She nodded feebly, fluttering her eyes once more, and he continued.

He tightened his grip on the hand she had attempted to grab, while taking his other arm and sliding it around her back, under her petite shoulders, to pull her upright, closer to him. He cradled her in his grasp for a moment, searching her violet depths with desperation, like a hibernating creature yearning for a sign of spring. "Our heart," he said simply, tugging her close enough so that their joined hands were pressed on either side by their weakly heaving chests, "is here."

Her pained yet understanding smile grew while more tears slid down her ashen cheeks. They exchanged a knowing look: one so familiar, open and vulnerable, as they always had in years past. It was intimate, in their own way. When words couldn't speak, they always could know one another through those open windows, and that simple fact comforted the pair like nothing else could.

"It's like coming home,"Rukia whispered to herself. "It's always been like that. And it always will."She shut her eyes and leaned her head forward toward his shoulder. Ichigo chuckled slightly, which hurt like hell, but he didn't care in the least. He couldn't sit up any longer; there simply wasn't enough strength left in his limbs for that any more, so he laid his nakama down as gently as he could manage, one arm still around her back, and he fell, draping across her broken form. He clutched her tightly to his chest, sighing contentedly as she nuzzled closer to his erratically thudding heart. At this point, on the doorstep of death itself, they were both inexplicably happy.

"Arigatou, Ichigo," gasped out quietly, all pain forgotten as her hold on his hand weakened, relaxing into the embrace. Her reiatsu flickered like a warm candle, a last reassurance to her nakama.

Somehow, the substitute was grinning brightly, amber eyes already closed, his tears having finally ceased as his body gave way and his consciousness dwindled. "Aishiteru, Rukia."

_See you around._

A/N:

Glossary (for those who spend their time in the dubs):

_Bakamono_: idiot, fool

_Nakama_: friend, companion, partner

_Arigatou_: thank-you

_Aishiteru_: I love you

There is an epilogue and further possible chapters as mentioned, in which: no, our pair is NOT dead…because I really couldn't kill off two of the most awesome characters in anime/manga-dom, now could I? …Didn't think so.

R&R

Much love to all, hold on to those you hold dear, and never let go.


	2. Epilogue

I have decided to continue this one-shot into a short series...I present the Epilogue: the rest of the story will be featured in a sequel, entitled 'The Way Back Home'. Because, after all...Home is where the Heart is, right?

*gets shot*

Sorry, I had to do it...

Anyway, the reason for the separation into two separate stories is due to the gradual shift in mood...you will soon see what I mean, provided that you read the rest as it is posted.

Thank-you all for the reviews, follows, favs...I am so pleasantly surprised at all of the positive feedback thus far! I am exceedingly grateful.

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_Epilogue:_

Not long after the last words were shared, a redheaded shinigami and a Quincy, battered and exhausted, came sprinting into the canyon as dawn broke. Inoue padded along after them, worry evident on her face.

"Dammit!" Renji cursed, kneeling and slamming a fist into the ground as he took in their surroundings. "I can't feel a shred of their reiatsu anywhere! They can't seriously be—"

"Hold on a second, Abarai-san! Look!" Ishida took off suddenly, his companions quickly following with agitation evident in their tense steps. All that was to be seen was barren rock, dry earth, and the occasional still body of a fallen shinigami or Quincy.

At last, the trio came upon a huddled pair of shinigami: one was lanky with bright orange hair, spread out limply across the body of a smaller figure, whom he held protectively, his face buried in her midnight-black locks. Inoue's eyes were wide, and she swallowed hard twice before carefully approaching them, gathering her resolve and willing her tears to remain hidden behind her lashes. As she knelt, she could see them move ever so slightly as they breathed. Her own breath hitched audibly.

"They're alive!"

The soft words sent an electric shock through the two men present. Renji scoffed, though the relief in the redhead's eyes was poorly hidden. "Well, c-come on, then; if we don't get them to Unohana-taicho, they won't be alive for long." His gaze lingered on Rukia's battered figure as he hoisted her partner off of her body.

Inoue simply nodded, a dazed look plastered on her face.

Ishida's eyes were clouded and he fidgeted with his glasses for a moment as he thought. _You two never cease to amaze me, Kurosaki-san, Kuchiki-san…_ He chuckled to himself as he knelt to gingerly pick up Rukia's form, Renji already having tossed Ichigo over his shoulder. _You spend all your lives trying to avoid and deny what is so obviously true…and yet in the face of death, your true colors emerge._ Ishida hadn't failed to notice how peaceful the pair looked, even unconscious, cradled gently in one another's arms. He also hadn't ignored the intertwined hands between their tattered chests.

Neither had Inoue and Renji, though perhaps they didn't put the pieces together to form any real meaning.

Perhaps they chose not to, for the time being.

_To be continued..._


End file.
